


Ouroboros

by PandaInTheStars



Series: Lucifer Oneshots [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Devil Face (Lucifer TV), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Full Devil Bod, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode s04e09 Save Lucifer, Whump, Whumptober, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaInTheStars/pseuds/PandaInTheStars
Summary: 4x09 AU in which Chloe and Lucifer leave Lux to go look for Father Kinley. Things don’t exactly go according to plan.





	Ouroboros

**Author's Note:**

> **Ouroboros:** _usually **ouroboros** or less commonly **uroboros**: a circular symbol that depicts a snake or dragon devouring its own tail and that is used especially to represent the eternal cycle of destruction and rebirth_
> 
> Thank you to [RootPatterson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RootPatterson/) for the beta!

Chloe is driving with the Devil riding shotgun.

This isn’t anything new. Lucifer has ridden in Chloe’s passenger seat many times, up to and including the last few months when Chloe was fully aware of his true identity. But it’s different now. The Devil is hunched next to her, his hands—or rather, _claws_—buried in his armpits, hidden to the best of his ability. The hooked bones protruding from his spine and tenting his jacket are digging into the seatback, forcing him to lean forward.

The ravaged and scorched remains of his face are on full display. The ornate mask he wore to the costume party was too big to fit under the car’s roof, so now it sits impotent in the backseat of Chloe’s cruiser, devoid of purpose. Instead, Lucifer looks away from her, cramming his head between the seat and the window. His eyes are screwed shut. Chloe can see him grimacing from the corner of her eye as she drives. She can’t tell if his torment is physical or mental. She imagines that with his body betraying him in such a way, it’s a matter of both.

They don’t speak.

They haven’t spoken much at all since they bundled into Chloe’s car back at Lux and set off to find Father Kinley. Or, at least, to find the upturned police prisoner transport van where Father Kinley was last seen. Chloe isn’t sure what the next step will be if they can’t find the priest. She isn’t sure of anything.

She knows she can’t leave Lucifer alone. Not when he’s pulling further and further away from her, into his world of spikes and claws and spines and burns. She has to help him pull through. They have to find a way to reverse this.

She doesn’t want to consider the possibility that the change could be permanent.

They’re driving down residential streets. Lucifer’s mojo is still on the fritz. It took one case of a red sedan pulling alongside them and a woman poking her head out of her car window to yell that she wanted to own fourteen dogs and animal control could go to Hell before they abandoned the highway.

Lucifer had just shrunk further in on himself.

They’re five miles away from the crime scene when Lucifer starts shaking violently. Chloe pulls her foot off the gas and glances over at him.

“Lucifer, are you okay?”

It’s harder to read his expression like this. He doesn’t have eyebrows, but the place where his eyebrows would be is pinched. His claws have left the shelter of his armpits and are now reaching further, digging into his back. Chloe can see the rips they’re making in the fabric of his jacket.

“_Lucifer?_”

“Detective,” Lucifer grunts, and Chloe’s stomach drops. His voice is two-toned. She can hear his normal accented voice, but behind it is a lower, darker cadence that makes Chloe shiver.

Lucifer squeezes harder, tearing deep cuts in his jacket. “Detective, pull over,” he growls.

“Pull over? Lucifer, why?”

Lucifer spasms in response and his eyes snap open. Twin red pinpricks of light in the dark. Chloe watches as the fire within them jumps and flares. “Pull over, now!” he snaps.

Chloe slams on the brakes and pulls over. There are a few moderately sized houses on this street but she can’t see any people. The lights inside some of the houses worry her. How far does the range of Lucifer’s mojo extend? Does she need to be prepared to fend off random civilians exiting their homes and confessing their innermost desires to her struggling partner?

The instant the car stops Lucifer begins scratching at his seatbelt. His claws catch on the belt itself, tearing small rivulets in the fabric. Finally, he manages to compress the button and release himself. He then battles similarly with the car door, scratching desperately at the handle before he opens it and practically falls out of the car. Chloe doesn’t know why the sight of him struggling with this mundane task fills her with such profound sorrow.

Chloe exits the car as well. She looks around for Lucifer and finds him stumbling down a service road behind the house at the end of the street. Its lights are thankfully dark. Chloe breaks into a quick jog to catch up with him.

Lucifer reaches the end of the road and collapses on the pavement next to some dumpsters. Chloe can hear him moaning weakly. She watches as he flips over so that he’s kneeling, his hands flat on the ground and his claws digging furrows in the concrete. Just as she’s approaching he sticks an arm out, warding her away.

“Stay back,” he says. His voice is riddled with pain, shifting back and forth between his normal voice and the demonic one.

Chloe lurches to a stop, her high heels clicking on the ground. “Lucifer?”

It happens in a matter of moments. Lucifer spasms again, all of the muscles in his body clenching and releasing. He lets out a strangled moan. And then a great mass of flesh ratchets upwards and out of his back, tearing his jacket asunder with an exaggerated ripping noise. And then the red flesh cleaves in two, falling on both sides of him like a massive leathery blanket.

_Wings_.

They are not angel wings.

Unconsciously, Chloe takes a step back. Her eyes are fixed on the curve of one massive gleaming claw that juts out from the wing’s wrist. For a moment she’s transported back to the musty hallways of the Vatican archives, staring at descriptions and illustrations of _the abomination_. The adversary. The _Devil_. Her breathing is shallow. Her hands shake and curl into loose fists.

“H-help me.”

Chloe blinks. The monster before her is shivering from bald, scarred head to scuffed Louboutin shoes. The claws on his hands and wings skitter on the ground, finding little purchase. He’s crying.

“D-detective. Please.”

Chloe gasps. The fear this creature might have inspired in her pales in comparison to the horror now blooming inside her chest. This is Lucifer. _This is Lucifer_. It always has been. So she goes to him. She kneels on the gritty asphalt in front of him and lifts a hand to cup his cheek. The skin is rough, jagged in a way his usual stubble isn’t. She runs her thumb over the pits and crevices, wiping away the moisture. He’s so warm.

“Lucifer,” Chloe chokes out, her mind finally taking in the scene in front of her. Lucifer’s jacket and shirt are both torn to shreds, the remaining pieces either caught in his spines or lying in strips on the ground. Chloe has no idea what to do. Any plan she could suggest feels woefully inadequate in the face of _this_. What is she to do? What _can_ she do?

Carefully, Chloe licks her lips. “Lucifer,” she starts again, steadier this time. “Can you… can you pull them in?”

Lucifer raises his eyes to meet hers. “What?”

“Just… j-just pull them in as much as you can. You can’t… You can’t fit in the car with them like… with them…” The words stutter and fade.

“The… car?”

“_Yes_, Lucifer. The car. We have to… we have to find Father Kinley. He’ll know… he’ll… he’ll know _something_.”

Lucifer stares at her for a long time before complying. Chloe watches as the muscles protruding from his back tighten and pull. The massive wings fold in with the sound of a tarp flapping in the wind. The spines prevent the wings from folding flat, so they hulk above his shoulders like a gargoyle.

Chloe exhales. It will have to do. “Good, that’s… that’s great, Lucifer. Let’s… let’s get moving.” She places a hand over his (carefully avoiding the tips of his fingers) and tugs lightly.

Lucifer doesn’t move.

Chloe tugs harder. Her fingers curl around his wrist. “Lucifer, come on.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “There’s no point,” he hisses, sibilant. “This isn’t working. He’s long gone. There’s no point going back there.”

Chloe’s heart leaps into her throat. For once, she hates that Lucifer only speaks the truth. She swallows.

“Well… we’ll go to the precinct, then. Talk to the officer on the scene—”

“_No_,” Lucifer growls. He shakes his head again and pulls his hand from Chloe’s grip. He raises himself until he’s sitting on his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Chloe can see his chest now. It’s as red and raw as the rest of him, somehow bulky and emaciated at the same time.

There is silence for a long moment. Chloe doesn’t know what to say.

“I… I can’t do this,” Lucifer says finally. He stares at the ground, blinking rapidly.

“Can’t do what?” Chloe asks. She tries to catch his eye but fails as he twists away from her.

“A-anything. I can’t be a… a _police_ consultant.” He spits the title out as if it’s a curse. He pulls his clawed hands away from his body and unclenches them, inspecting them with his red-hot gaze. “Not like this.”

A spike of fear lances through Chloe. _White sheets_, she thinks. _White sheets and an empty apartment._

“I can’t run Lux.”

“_Lucifer?_ What are you saying? What do you mean?” She hates how shrill she sounds.

“I can’t stay here. Not… not like this.” Then his eyes widen and he starts shivering again. “Evil will be released. That’s what he said. Evil will be released.” He starts muttering to himself, the words too quick and quiet for Chloe to hear.

“Lucifer… _Lucifer!_ What are you talking about?”

“I don’t belong… Evil… I can’t… I have to… You have to be safe.” His eyes finally raise and meet her own. “You have to be safe,” he repeats, as intense and earnest as she’s ever heard him.

“Safe from what?”

Lucifer gapes at her. Are his teeth sharper? “From… from _this_.” He motions to himself. “From _me_.” He rises to his feet with jerky motions. Chloe follows him up, hands hovering close but not touching.

Chloe watches in anguish as Lucifer backs away from her. He slams backward into the dumpster, pushing it back with a raucous groan. Then he rolls away, stumbling to his left and turning his back on her.

“Lucifer, _stop!_ Where are you going?”

Lucifer freezes. He doesn’t turn to face her. “I… I have to go back.”

“Go… back?”

He pauses, breathing heavily. “I have to go back to… m-my penthouse.” He shakes his head once, sharply. “You don’t need me. I… I can’t help you. Like this… I’m no use to you.”

Chloe’s eyes widen. Her breath comes in short gasps. Her tongue feels like lead.

Lucifer walks even further away. Chloe watches as the great chiropteran wings extend, reaching until they’re spread as far as they can go. Then they lift up, obviously ready to push down and propel the man they’re attached to far into the air, far away from her—

“_Wait!_”

Chloe dashes forward and puts her hand on the right wing’s shoulder and pushes down as hard as she can. She can feel the strength of the muscle beneath her fingers, feel how it’s coiled and ready to release.

“Detective—”

“Don’t… don’t go. Please. We can figure this out.”

“_How?_” Lucifer’s voice is choked. Under her hand, the muscles of his wing relax. The wing itself drifts closer to the ground. Chloe holds in her sigh of relief.

“You… you said you wanted to use this case to figure out why you hate yourself. Maybe… that will help fix it.”

Lucifer scoffs. “Why do I hate myself? Well, look at me, Detective. Isn’t it obvious?”

Chloe removes her hand as Lucifer twists around to face her. His mouth is curved in a sneer. And, is it her imagination, or are there two bumps protruding from his temples?

“_This_ is what I am. Who I am.” He presses a clawed hand to his pitted chest. “Why shouldn’t I hate myself? I am a monster. A freak. I don’t belong here. I should never have left Hell.”

The last sentence makes Chloe want to cry out in despair. It makes her want to hold on to Lucifer and never, ever let go. But mostly… it makes her want to tear her hair out in frustration.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Lucifer blinks. “What?”

“You hate yourself, so you become, well, _this_.” She motions, awkwardly, to his entire person. “And because you look like this, you hate yourself. It doesn’t make sense. It’s circular logic.”

“Detective?”

“So that’s not the real reason. There has to be something else.”

Lucifer blinks again and then snorts. “Well, take your pick, Detective. It’s not like I lack in reasons to be reviled. I am the Devil. You yourself saw what humanity has written about me throughout history. I am to be blamed for all the evil in the world.”

“But those stories aren’t true, Lucifer. _You told me _they aren’t true.”

Lucifer’s mouth screws up. He takes a step away from her. “Well, what if they are true?”

“You don’t lie.”

“And what if I do lie?! That’s what I pay Dr. Linda for, isn’t it? To figure out all the lies I’m telling myself?”

“You’re making excuses.”

“So what? So what if I’m making excuses? I’m _awful_. I’m _evil_. Making your life… making _everyone’s _lives harder is what I do.”

Chloe steps back into Lucifer’s space and points a finger into his chest. “Why do you think that, Lucifer? I know that’s not true. You know that, too.”

“Because it doesn’t make _sense_ otherwise!” Lucifer yells, his voice dipping into an even deeper register, blending like hundreds of him are speaking together. The words echo around the alley, bouncing back and fading into the night.

Slowly, Chloe flattens her hand and places her palm against Lucifer’s heart. There’s a little divot there, almost a hole, right under his clavicle.

“Why doesn’t it make sense?” she asks quietly.

“Because… because I keep hurting people.” He matches her quiet tone, his voice almost returned to normal. “You. Eve. Myself. Even bloody Cain and… and _Uriel_.” Chloe frowns at the unfamiliar name. “Because they threw me away. They all throw me away… I… I…” He breaks off, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly. He breathes quickly through his nose. “I have to be bad. If I’m _not_ then… why does this keep happening? Why do I hurt… why does everything always _hurt?_”

Chloe blinks away the tears that have gathered at the ends of her eyelashes. She pushes against Lucifer with her palm. She wants to hold him close, but it’s not what he needs right now. She knows that. This can’t come from her. It has to come from him.

“But you don’t want to hurt, do you?”

Lucifer frowns. “Of… of course not. But… if it’s what I deserve…”

“Why would you deserve it?”

“Because I’m… Because I…”

Chloe smiles a little, in spite of the tears still leaking from her eyes. “It’s circular, Lucifer. Can’t you see that?”

Lucifer breathes even harder. “I… I can’t…”

“You can’t see that?”

“I can’t… I can’t _stop_.”

“Why can’t you stop?”

Lucifer pulls air into his lungs like he’s drowning. “I… I don’t know how to.” His eyes are blown wide and boring into hers. Pleading her. For forgiveness. For relief. For absolution.

“Do you want to? Do you want to stop?”

Lucifer pulls in a final breath and holds it. Then he places one of his hands over Chloe’s, against his chest. Even without the elongated digits and sharp claws, his hand dwarfs hers.

“_Yes_,” he breathes.

It’s as if he spoke a magic word. Perhaps he did. Beneath Chloe’s hand she can _feel_ his skin warp before she sees it. Slowly, the red skin smooths away, replaced by the pale, freckled skin she’s so familiar with. His hand grows cooler and the nails retract. He has the hands of a musician—piano hands. Chloe looks up to see brown eyes and dark hair and _stubble_. She didn’t realize how much she had missed his stubble or his ridiculous sideburns. But now they’re there and Chloe wants to _sing_.

The wings have already vanished.

Lucifer looks at her like she’s worth more than all the riches in the world. Then he looks down at himself and a breathy chuckle escapes from him. Then another. And another. He pulls away to inspect himself, flipping his palms over. He reaches a hand over his shoulder and runs it down his now-smooth spine. Not a spike to be seen. He’s laughing hysterically now, touching his hair, his chest, his back, his arms.

Chloe can’t help it. She joins in on the laughter. His joy is infectious and she’s happy to fall ill to its effects. She cups her hands over her mouth and whispers, “_You’re okay_,” though he’s too wrapped up in himself to hear her.

“We did it,” Lucifer says, jubilant. “We… we _did _it, Detective.”

Chloe nods, not trusting herself to string long sentences together yet.

Lucifer pauses in his self-inspection. He looks up at her, his mood dampening for a moment. “Shall we… continue on, then? I mean… keep looking for Kinley.”

Unexpectedly, a jolt of fear bursts through Chloe’s chest.

“No!” she says, just short of a yell. “I mean, um, _no_.” She reaches out and squeezes Lucifer’s arm. He’s _here_. He’s _okay._ “You were right. He’s… he’s long gone by now. There’s no point looking for him tonight.” She forces a smile onto her face. “Let’s go back to Lux. You, uh, need a new shirt.”

Lucifer blinks and looks down at the wreckage of his former garments. “You’re sure? Hmm. Well, yes, I suppose you’re right. Not really fit for a crime scene, am I? I’ve learned that lesson at least.”

“Right,” Chloe says. She can’t stop raking her eyes over him, assuring herself that he is really still there. That he hasn’t vanished into the night on the wings of a fallen angel.

Lucifer looks at her quizzically. “Well then… lead the way, Detective.” He holds an arm out, pointing back to her car.

Chloe looks at his arm and then reaches out to grab his hand. She takes a moment to fold their fingers together. Ignoring his startled look, she turns around and starts dragging him back towards her car.

She’s never letting go again.


End file.
